Sleeping Beauty
by Huldra
Summary: Nineteen years has passed since the last Battle of Hogwarts and Voldemort's fall, but dark magic is lurking again. Late one evening, none other than Snape knocks on the Potter's peaceful door.
1. Chapter I

**Title:**Sleeping Beauty**  
Rating:**K+ (might possibly change) **  
Disclaimer:**Harry Potter and all associated characters belong of course to Rowling and such. The poem used in the intro belongs to André Bjerke and is translated by me.**  
Warnings: **This will be a **SLASH** story. In other words a romantic relationship between two males.

**Notes:** I actually began this story as an answer to a prompt at the LJ comm Snapeafterdh, but since I never managed to finish before the deadline I thought I'd post it here instead. WIP of course, since I just can't seem to manage to start something without making a huge project out of it.

* * *

**Chapter I**

_Soon is all that your summer gave  
blossomed away,  
and your first young love  
will never come again  
until your garden's wild thorns  
fade away.  
Old, old Sleeping Beauty,  
are you sleeping still?_

_- Sleeping Beauty, André Bjerke_

**I**

_Hogwarts has been at peace for nineteen years. The grass and flowers are covering the scorch marks once made by terrible curses, new walls have been built where old had fallen and trees are growing out of the ashes. The blood has finally been cleansed away. There are no physical remains of the terrible night that had ended so many lives. The only exception is one gigantic monument. It is carved in black stone, rising tall and imposing along the road leading up to the castle. Names are written there in shining silvery letters, names of people long dead, heroes lost in the last devastating war. If you follow the pathway leading away from the monument and walk down a slight hill you'll enter something that might remind of a graveyard. But there are no gravestones here, only plaques resting nicely in manicured grass, decorated with small flowers blowing gently in the wind._

_Wandering between these plaques you will read the names of all the ones who spent their lives in the Battle of Hogwarts. Remus John Lupin, Nymphadora Tonks Lupin, Fred Weasley, Colin Creevy, Severus Prince Snape and so many more. They're all there and they're all in peace._

_Perhaps with only one exception._

_People who knew him alive would not have been surprised, but all the young children wonder why Severus P. Snape's grave has no flowers and no grass. They wonder why they feel a strong desire to turn around and run every time they venture over with curiosity to explore. The rumour that the grave is cursed soon becomes common knowledge._

_No one visits Severus P. Snape's grave because of this._

_Nineteen years has passed and night covers Hogwart's grounds. An owl is flying low in the darkness, using her keen eyes to hunt down the rodents who dare to leave the cover of the forest. One little mouse is skilfully digging in the soil to find the most delicious seeds. It needs to be fat when winter comes; the autumn nights already carry with them the scent of frost. Just as it has found the juiciest seed and is about to set its teeth into it, a low rumble makes it freeze. No one but a mouse could have heard it, no one but the owl could have seen it. It rumbles again and the mouse drops its seed, its little heart beats furiously. There is something dangerous, but it cannot understand it. The earth rumbles and it falls dead to the ground._

_Six feet underneath its prone body the myriads of insects flees. They're fleeing away from the coffin that still after nineteen years lies untouched by the elements. Another pulse spreads through the earth and the insects die. An owl falls. Further and further the pulse reaches and everything dies. Plants, animals and insects. The pulse becomes quicker, rhythmic and a gasping breath could have been heard if there had been someone left to hear it._

_Black eyes open in the night; they stare unseeingly at the lid of a coffin. It breathes again. The blood pulses, reaching through the entire body as it awakens bit by bit. For each breath and each beat of its heart, something dies, until enough life has been devoured for the creature to slowly raise a hand and knock on the coffin lid._

* * *

The children had been away to school for over a month, but Harry was still not used to the silence of having just one daughter at home (regardless whether the daughter in question was both stubborn and loud-mouthed enough for five). Ginny used to comment on Harry spoiling Lily too much. Harry, of course, disagreed. Why was giving his youngest daughter whatever her pure little heart could desire, spoiling her?

On this particular evening it was quite rainy and cold, and Harry and Ginny were preparing to go to bed. Ginny bustled about in the kitchen cleaning the dishes that had been postponed since after dinner. Harry was busy brushing his teeth in the downstairs bathroom. Rock beat scissor, every time.  
It had been a day like any other day. The auror department had been quiet, just as the entire wizarding community had been quiet the last two decades. A lot of readjustments had been done in the Ministry since the war, and truth be told, there wasn't much left to be done at all. Occasionally they might have to arrest a poor sod who had gotten his feet a bit too deep into the dark arts, but mostly there were just small breaches of the wizarding law that the other departments dealt with effectively and cleanly.

Spitting one last time in the sink Harry scrutinized himself in the mirror. He had seen the same face day out and day in for over thirty seven years and to him it hadn't changed at all. Perhaps his beard grew more evenly now and he had a few wrinkles around his eyes when he smiled, but despite this he couldn't see any major differences. Harry knew of course that he must have changed, nineteen years is a long time after all, even for a wizard. But his eyes were still green, his hair still grew in uncontrollable directions and his nose was still as button like and immature as it always had been. Life kept on going.

Nineteen years since he needed to risk his life, nineteen years since he had to commit his first murder. He hadn't needed to play anymore live wizarding chess, babysit giants, run away from man-eating spiders or walk around in polyjuice disguise.

He hadn't spoken of this to anyone, but truth be told, Harry was _bored_.

A sudden knock on the front door broke the relative silence of the evening.

'I'll open it,' called Ginny. Harry frowned to himself at the late hour of the visitor and was about to put away his toothbrush when he heard Ginny's surprised scream. Pulling the bathroom door open in a rush, Harry sprinted down the hallway. Ginny was leaning against the stairs, clutching desperately at her chest in pure terror. The lack of charging death eaters made Harry confused as to what was causing her this distress; but finally he too saw the monster on the porch. He had to struggle not to scream himself.

A thin and tall humanoid creature stood on his doorstep, its breathing came in loud terrifying rasps. It was covered in a stained and dirtied cloth that once must have been white. Long black hair obscured its face, reaching past the creature's waist.

'Harry Potter,' it rasped, slowly looking up, black eyes meeting green, 'I have come.'

* * *

**II**

The voice might have been devoid of life, it might have been coming in nothing but ragged gasps, but it was a call from the grave. Harry was certain that his knees were going to give out on him and he reached for the wall for support. He knew that voice and there was nothing that could make him forget those eyes. He had stared into them as they died. There was no doubt that Severus Snape was standing on his doorstep, calling his name.

'Mommy? Daddy? What is going on?' questioned a sleepy voice from the top of the stairs.

'_No_…' whimpered Ginny in fear as Snape turned his head slowly towards the sound of Lily. 'Stay upstairs!' she called with a tint of hysteria in her voice. Finally she managed to force her muscles into animation and sprinted up the stairs. Harry automatically moved to stand between Snape and his family, blocking the way into the house. But Snape had already lost interest in Lily, and was staring at Harry again with his black, dead eyes.

'What are you?' asked Harry, glad his voice didn't waver. Snape didn't answer him, but raised a shaking hand to remove some of the long strands of hair covering his face. His hands were both covered in dirt and blood, several of the long yellowed nails had broken.

_As if he had clawed his way out of a coffin_ Harry realized and took a step back in horror. But Snape seemed too preoccupied with his long tasselled beard to care whether Harry fainted out of fear right in front of him.

'Do you _mind_?' Snape suddenly asked, his voice still as raspy and hollow, 'I'm cold and quite tired after having dug through six feet of earth and then walked all the way here.'

Harry's jaw threatened to make a close encounter with the floor. Hastily he moved away from the door and watched in muted horror as Snape walked into the hallway.

'What are you doing, letting that _thing_ into our house?' Ginny hissed, standing at the top of the stairs looking down at Snape who had found one of the hallway mirrors.

'I-it's Snape,' Harry stuttered as a way of explanation. Ginny ran down the last few steps of stairs and stood by Harry, watching Snape taking in the damage. He turned, stared at them, then at himself, and then back at them.

'How long?' he asked, his voice merely a whisper. Harry and Ginny looked at each other trying to silently plan a distraction and attack. 'Well?' Snape continued to prod. Even wearing filthy rags and sporting a beard reaching down to his waist Snape managed to look both imposing and impatient.

'You're supposed to be dead,' pointed Ginny out hesitantly, in case the knowledge would be startling to Snape, 'Voldemort killed you.'

He stared at them for a long while, making Harry's skin crawl unpleasantly on his scalp. He had been a member of the wizarding society for about twenty six years, and still he didn't know that the dead were able to rise from their graves. Not in their actual corporeal bodies, and if so, they'd be an inferi and would not be able to control their brain. Though Harry supposed that if there ever would be an inferi stubborn enough keep his mind, it would be Snape.

'I just want to know how many years have passed,' Snape eventually said, ignoring Ginny's comment about him being dead.

'Err… Nineteen years,' Harry looked at Ginny for confirmation, she nodded. 'Yeah, nineteen years.' Harry couldn't really discern much of Snape's face, but he could have sworn he'd just been given one of the looks reserved for the really dunderheaded students back in the days.

'Do you want a cup of tea?' Ginny suddenly asked, remembering that even though Snape was supposed to be dead, he was also their guest and it was rude not to invite your guests to a spot of tea. Especially if they had been digging through six feet of dirt and walked all the way from Scotland.

Snape nodded slowly, but then made a hand gesture indicating himself, 'may I borrow your bathroom?'

Harry was leading Snape down the corridor upstairs, carrying a set of towels, scissors, trousers, underwear and a comfortable sweater that he hoped Snape would like. Harry didn't know why it concerned him whether Snape liked his clothing or not. Snape, even though more alive now than previously thought, still walked with a stiff and death-like gait. He was, if possible, even thinner than before. The muscles had been waning and all his joints creaked warningly whenever he turned.

A door had suddenly opened behind them, and a little girl stood peering out at them. She was clutching her stuffed unicorn to her chest and her big, brown eyes rested on Snape. Snape stared back. Then Lily pointed demandingly, 'is that Father Christmas?' she asked. It was neither the season nor did the bearded man look much like Father Christmas at all, but it was the closest she could come to any mythical figure she knew.

'No Lily, this is not Father Christmas,' Harry tried to explain, 'he's… he's an old acquaintance, he's been travelling for a while you see. Now go back to bed.'

Lily nodded, slowly and unconvinced, at them before stepping back into her room and slamming the door shut. She was quite certain that she had managed to catch her dad sneaking Father Christmas about and just wasn't owning up to it. How stupid did he think she was?

'Lily?' Snape asked while Harry opened the bathroom door. He didn't answer at once, but occupied himself by placing the things he was carrying on the counter beside the sink.

'Yes,' he finally acknowledged, 'both Ginny and I thought it prudent.' When deciding Lily's name, Harry had never really considered having to excuse himself to Snape. He was glad both James and Al were safely at school.

Harry proceeded to explain that they mistakenly had switched the taps on the shower so the red was actually cold and the blue was actually hot, they had just never gotten around to fixing it. ("The shampoos and shower gels are in the cabinet there beside the shower, and if you want to be able to comb all that hair after the shower you better borrow Lily's conditioner. Sorry that it smells like pear and apple flowers. Oh and yes, the towels are over there, and this scrubber will help getting off some of the worst grime, it's really handy whenever the kids have been out playing in the dirt.") Harry felt he was blabbering to calm his rattled nerves.

In the kitchen Ginny was busy looking through the cupboards for the proper biscuits to serve with the tea. Her hands were shaking slightly.

'I could have sworn he was dead,' she said without turning around to face Harry who busied himself by refilling the sugar bowl. 'Do you think he has been alive in that coffin all these years?'

'No…' Harry answered grudgingly while he thought about it, 'wouldn't he have starved to death?'

'I suppose… Harry, where are those damned biscuits, I can't reach the top shelf.'

Snape had quite expertly managed to remove the long beard on his own, but his hair seemed to be posing a problem. Wisely he had not dared to cut it himself and it was full of tugs and knots, not that Harry really could blame him for _that._

When Snape had finally come walking into the kitchen, desperately trying to untwine the brush from his hair, it surprised Harry to find that his clothing were actually a tiny bit too big for him. After a second, and a third and a fourth, look Harry came to the conclusion that Snape wasn't as tall and larger than life as he remembered him. Gone were the billowing cloak and the horrifying scowl, gone was all the authority he had had as a feared teacher back in school.

Now that they were at an age Harry saw that Snape was actually quite a delicate man with thin bones and perhaps no more than 5'7 feet to his name. Wearing Harry's clothes he seemed even less terrifying.

It might have been that Harry was older, maybe it was the nineteen years had passed since last they saw each other, or perhaps it was because Snape had been dead for all those years, but it was as if Harry was seeing Snape for the very first time. Snape hadn't aged a day since Voldemort had killed him and Harry wondered what magic it was that had managed to preserve him so well.

'Your daughter called me a dementor,' was the first thing Snape said as he entered the kitchen, 'and then she began questioning me about where I had put Father Christmas.' Sitting down in the chair opposite Harry he finally managed to tug loose the brush.

'Oh well,' coughed Harry slightly embarrassed, 'Lily is a bit caught up in magical creatures you see. At least you know what she's talking about, I've had enough phone calls from her teachers complaining about her throwing a fit every time they try to explain that dragons doesn't exist.'

Ginny had poured Snape a steaming cup of tea and was now wrestling the hair brush out of his hands. Harry couldn't decide whether Snape didn't want to let the brush go or if his fingers were still too frozen to obey his will. Ginny, being a mother to a ten year old girl who insisted on keeping her hair long, began working on Snape's hair without asking for permission. It looked painful and Harry winced together with Snape in sympathy.

'Why did you come here?' asked Harry after some consideration. He decided it was more polite than the more urgent "why are you alive?" which he found to be rather rude. Snape stared at him for a few seconds before he began slowly to move his mouth to form the correct words.

'I don't know,' Snape eventually answered. 'How was I even supposed to know you lived here?'

Snape was making an excellent point Harry realized. Having practically been gone from the world for two decades, it seemed impossible for Snape to know where Harry had currently been living.

'We'll just have to call Hermione tomorrow,' said Ginny as she was brushing Snape's hair away from his face. Harry couldn't help but feel a slight thrill at the idea of calling Hermione to solve yet another mystery. And of course they'd have to invite Ron too, and then things might just accelerate from there.

After having finished their tea and Snape had gotten a bit to eat, Harry showed him to the guest bedroom that Ted used to sleep in whenever he was over.

Never having been very good at changing linen, he found himself slightly embarrassed as he was twisting around in a sheet, having completely lost his way out. Eventually Snape had to ask him why he didn't just use his wand.

'Well, Ginny and I decided after we got kids that we wanted to live as close to muggle life as possible and after the war… well, it just becomes a habit to let the wand rest and do this manually.'

Snape gave a contemptuous snort and went to look out the window without offering Harry help.

'Godric's Hollow has changed,' he finally said while Harry wiped off some laborious sweat from his forehead. Joining Snape at the window, Harry came to understand what he meant. It had been during their wild chase after the Horcruxes that Harry had seen the village for the first time, and it had been a relatively small and quiet town then. Now it had expanded quite a bit, and had even gotten a Centrum to call its own.

'After the war there was a propaganda campaign lead by the Ministry encouraging witches and wizards to live in coexistence with muggles. Because of this, many of the previously small wizard and muggle towns exploded, Godric's Hollow being one of the most popular ones, because of its history and all.'

Snape nodded slowly. The sleek texture of his hair was untwining the queue, falling across Snapes face and obscuring it.

* * *

**III**

A terrible scream was heard across the house, awakening all the sleeping occupants.

'I want to wear the one with the pixies!' hollered Lily as Ginny tried to force on her a plain green sweater. Entering the kitchen Harry knew he had made a mistake, for it had become nothing less than a warzone. Eyeing a possible alliance, Lily managed to escape her mother's grip with a ten year old's unmatched speed and ran to hide behind her father's legs.

'Daddy, I wanna wear the one with the pixies! Tell mommy that I'm allowed to wear the one with the pixies.'

'Well, I can't see why she can't wear the one with the pixies,' Harry said trying to sound diplomatic. This earned him a victorious cheer from Lily and a reprimanding scowl from Ginny.

'You know very well why she can't wear that sweater Harry; it's for formal occasions only.'

'But daddy said I could wear it,' declared Lily and hurried out of the kitchen and up the stairs, taking each step with a jump.

Ginny threw the sweater down on one of the kitchen chairs, still glaring at Harry who started to feel slightly uncomfortable.

'It's just a sweater,' he defended himself. Because it _was_ just a sweater and he felt it was unreasonable to start making a fuss about a little piece of fabric.

'It's not about the sweater,' Ginny grit out, 'it's about the fact that you _always_ go against what I say and give her right in everything. She never listens to me anymore. If I ever give her an order she just runs to you and you completely undermine my authority.'

'Oh come on, not that again,' sighed Harry. They had this argument almost every day, and it was quickly giving him a headache now.

'Yes, that again!' said Ginny, 'it will be that again until you start working _with_ me instead of against me!'

'Well… I feel you make a lot of noise about small things like a bloody sweater. I don't try to undermine your authority or whatever evil things you make up in your mind that I try to do to you. I am just being a parent here!'

'That's the problem, isn't it? You're trying to be a pare_nt _when in reality we are pare_nts_. Are you noticing the plural form there honey?'

Lily sat at the bottom step with the pixie sweater in her arms. She didn't really want to wear it anymore, not if it made mum so ridiculously angry with dad. The strange man who was neither Father Christmas nor a dementor came walking down the stairs, stopping at her step to look down at her. He was probably also hearing her parents arguing. It was a bit embarrassing, but Lily knew that all adults argued. They were allowed to, children were not, apparently.

'Mum doesn't want me to wear the sweater with pixies,' said Lily as a way of explanation and sighed. The strange man nodded in understanding. 'You have very long hair,' pointed Lily out and got up from her step, forgetting her sweater for a second. 'Can I touch it?'

The man looked a bit hesitant for a moment, but bent down slightly so that she might reach it easier. It smelled just like her hair, of pear and apple blossoms, but felt quite different. It was coarse and thick while hers was much softer and red like her mother's. 'I want just as long hair as you! How long did it take to save it?'

'Nineteen years,' the man answered, straightening his back again now that Lily was done touching his hair.

'Nineteen years?' Lily echoed heartbroken, she didn't want to wait nineteen years.

'Yes, and I am going to cut it,' answered the man.

'You can't cut it!' she exclaimed, 'it's so long, I bet it's even longer than Rapunzel's! If you cut it, how will your prince be able to climb up to take you away?'

The man's black eyes glittered curiously. Lily returned the smile.

'No Harry, I told you yesterday that I had an important meeting at the Ministry today, I won't be home until late this evening. You'll have to drive her to school.'

Mum and dad walked out into the hallway. They were still looking angry, but busy-angry.

'Look mum, I won't be wearing the pixie sweater just like you said,' said Lily diplomatically. She just wanted to see her mum smile once before leaving for work. But her mother acted like she always did whenever she was in a hurry.

'That's good Lily' she said and bent down to kiss her on the cheek, 'be a good girl today and draw me something nice at school.' And then she disappeared out the door, and Lily knew she would have something nasty for dinner since her father was making it.

'So… you have more kids?' asked the dark stranger. He had descended the last few steps and was scrutinizing the family photographs. He seemed particularly interested in the one they had taken last Easter. Lily had been allowed to wear her fairy wings on that picture, so she was quite proud of it.

'Yes, that is-… James,' said her dad and pointed at James, 'and that is… err… Albus.' Her da'ds reluctance puzzled Lily greatly. If she hadn't known better she would have said he seemed almost uncomfortable.

'Albus?' asked the man surprised and raised his eyebrows. 'He doesn't really seem like an Albus to me.' Lily agreed. She associated Albuses with sherbet lemons and things that twinkled excitedly. Al didn't really like sherbet lemons and none of his toys twinkled at all.

'His whole name is Albus Severus Potter,' explained Lily oddly proud. Again the man made an expression without changing his face. Lily could feel his shock.


	2. Chapter II

**Chapter II**

**I**

Harry had driven Lily off to school half an hour before she needed to be there, just so he could break the awkward silence that had ensued after she revealed Albus' entire name. He had even taken a longer route home in order to postpone whatever taunts Snape might have conjured up. But eventually he took a deep breath and walked into the kitchen where he found Snape busy making breakfast. His hands were still shaking and every movement seemed slower and more laborious, but all in all, Harry thought Snape had handled being dead for nineteen years remarkably well.

'I… err…' began Harry when it was apparent Snape wasn't going to say anything. He was busy rummaging through the fridge and didn't pay Harry any attention. A thousand different ways to excuse and explain Albus' name went through Harry's head while watching Snape busying himself. But Snape didn't push the subject and gratefully Harry decided to clean off the kitchen table and make ready for breakfast instead. They had been eating in silence while Harry read the morning's newspaper and Snape stared out the kitchen window when he suddenly put his bread down.

'You named a child _Albus Severus_ and then put him through a muggle elementary school?' he asked.

'Yes,' answered Harry with what he hoped was a straight forward air. He certainly hoped he wasn't flushing or in any other way showed how uncomfortable he felt when Snape spoke directly to him, especially in the way that clearly questioned his sanity and or intelligence. 'We just call him Al in public,' Harry added, just to be safe.

Snape rolled his eyes delicately and continued to stare out the window.

'Tell me,' he said at length, 'who has died, who is alive and what has happened.'

There should have been more to tell, Harry thought as he started count off names on people dead on both sides. Two decades had passed and there weren't much worthy of mentioning. Harry explained who had married, who had gotten how many kids, who worked where. Snape just listened while he stared intently out of the window; his brows creased in concentration. When Harry mentioned Remus' death, he might just have imagined Snape's fingers grip tighter around his cup. He seemed shaken by Fred's death too, but pleased that the Malfoys were still managing well.

'I am the last of my generation then,' was all Snape said when Harry was done with his accountings. The uncharacteristic loneliness in Snape's voice made Harry's throat feel tight and uncomfortable and he was at a loss as what to answer. He tried to imagine how it was like to wake up one day just to realize that the world had continued to drive by without you. Twenty years. All your friends and acquaintances dead, and the children you taught in school grown up and with families of their own. Everyone except you had continued on and there is nothing familiar left.

'I am sorry,' was all Harry eventually managed to say, but of course it could never be enough.

**II**

It didn't seem like the shock had completely set in with Snape yet. Eventually just took a deep breath and asked Harry to explain to him how the new television in his living room worked. Harry made a floo call into the Ministry explaining he wasn't able to come in today, not that they needed him anyway, and together he and Snape whiled away the day going through whatever new electronics they were able to find in the house.

'So you're telling me the days of gigantic keyboards and horrendously glaring computer screens are over?' asked Snape, his hands carefully hovered over the flat plasma board imbedded in the ivory table. The table was strategically placed in front of the wide screen that barely reached a few millimeters out of the wall. It had a thin, slick frame and hadn't it been for the obvious inventory of an everyday desktop it could have been easily confused with a rather posh wallposter. Snape let one of his long fingers brush a key lightly and had instant results by a pop-up asking him if he _really_ wanted to do that. 'At least that hasn't changed,' he murmured.

'It surprises me you have any knowledge about computers at all,' grinned Harry leaning over to tell the computer that, yes, he _really_ wanted to go through with that.

'What are you referring to?' asked Snape raising his left eyebrow and giving Harry a level stare from the side. Being this close Harry could awkwardly feel the scent of the appleblossom conditioner in Snape's hair. It smelled nice.

'No, it's just that most wizards of your generation are completely handicapped when it comes to technology,' shrugged Harry helplessly, feeling himself squirm under his old teacher's disapproving gaze. 'Even Ginny doesn't like to use the computer after twenty years.'

'I thought you should know by now that I am not "most wizards",' drawled Snape and got up from the chair, removing himself sufficiently for Harry not to be able to inhale the fumes of his hair anymore.

'Snape, if I had been a saner person I would have called this incident into the Ministry at once…' said Harry silently, still standing bent over the ivory table, barely touching the keys idly. 'I mean… You're dead. You don't exist in the records anymore… Not as anything else but a piece of history.' Carefully Harry looked up over the rims of his glasses, trying to see if he had caused any unease with Snape by his words. The dark man had crossed his arms over his chest, tapping the fingers of his left hand on his right arm. His lips were pursed and he looked at Harry as if he was staring right through him. Finally Snape gave a miniature shake of his head, which Harry barely managed to register, before he turned his back and wandered over to the stereo to pluck at the buttons there.

'You will have to do what your position requires you to do,' said Snape just as silently as Harry had. It was as if they were whispering at a wake.

'I…' Harry was currently at a loss of words. He knew what he _should_ be doing, what he _should_ have done the second Snape knocked on his door the night previously. But what one should be doing just seemed eons away from what one _felt_ like doing. Harry had no desire to turn the man into the Ministry to live through who knew how many experiments and tests. They would be so carried away that Snape's rights as a human being might even be neglected. Especially now that the Ministry was nearly grasping at straws in order to have something even remotely interesting to do. No, Harry felt that the right thing to do now was to give the man some peace, a chance to collect the loose ends on his own and try to grasp what was happening. That was the human thing to do, the Gryffindor thing to do. Harry smiled at Snape, who didn't as much as twitch a muscle in return. 'Eventually I think we should at least seek some professional help for you, but until then you're welcome as a guest here.'

A nearly impossible thin smile graced Snape's lips and he inclined his head a fraction. 'I take it you have discussed this with your wife and that she agrees?'

Harry's eyes grew slightly as he suddenly remembered Ginny before he pulled himself together. He hadn't discussed this with her per say, no. But he couldn't really go back on the invitation _now_. They would just have to talk about it and if she couldn't deal with it… well, there wasn't much else to be done really.

'How do you feel?' asked Harry instead, hoping for a distraction. 'I mean, are you in any pain of any sort?'

Snape only looked at him with an overbearing gaze that told him he was not buying the distraction. But he must have come to the conclusion that whatever went on between Harry and Ginny was their business and he let it slide.

'No, I am not in any particular pain,' said Snape and waved a hand as if he tried to brush the question away. Striding over to the window again, he stared out at the garden and neighbour Keddle's house. Long hair was obscuring his face, and almost idly he secured the black strands behind his ear. Harry found it a peculiar habit for him to develop after having hid behind his curtain for so many years previously. But Harry hadn't become Head of the Auror Department if he hadn't had the skills (no matter how much many liked to argue against it) and could see a slight shaking of the hand. Either Snape was in pain and lied about it, or then the trauma was still riding his body and the shaking was caused by the strain it took to hide it. Years ago Harry might have pushed the subject, but he knew better now; if Snape did not want to indulge any information, then that had to be respected.

They were taking tea out in the winter garden and watching the colourful leaves being carried away by the strong November winds. It was rather chilly outside, but the sun had been shining directly on the winter garden the entire morning so inside it was quite comfortable. The garden had not been a part of the original layout of the house, but both Harry and Ginny had agreed on adding one when they had renovated it. Harry was watching Mrs. Keddle's cat merrily running jigsaw after the leaves across the garden and occasionally making a deadly pounce. Glancing at Snape from the corner of his eye he noticed that the other man was busier studiously stirring his tea and watching the swirls in the cup. Snape must have noticed Harry's eyes on him because he suddenly looked up and stared right back. A faint glint was shining in them, a flicker of something burning that Harry had never previously seen while the man had been alive the first time. The recollection of those dead eyes staring at him and beyond nineteen years ago made Harry's hair stand on end. Hadn't it been for the fact that both Ginny and Lily was able to see him; Harry would have had himself hospitalized.

'Do you remember anything? Of the past nineteen years, that is?' said Harry to finally break the silence. It wasn't until he had stated the question that he realized how rude or obtrusive it might seem. Or just plain idiotic, if you wanted to be crude about it. 'I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked. Not yet anyway. You just arrived yesterday and everything.'

'I don't think I have ever heard an apology directed at me from Harry Potter before,' murmured Snape as he slowly tapped a lean finger against his slim lips.

Harry stared at him for a moment before he gave an embarrassed laugh. 'No, I suppose you wouldn't have… I was a child then, I at least _hope_ I have matured somewhat since then.'

'Indeed.'

The silence fell over them again, making the noise of the wind rattling the glass uncomfortably loud. The clouds covering the sky were dark grey. So dark they even seemed blue at places, lending the world a sinister but at the same time quite romantic feel. Every colour was stronger and more powerful in this nearly unnatural light, a last flare of life before everything would be covered by snow.

A secret, and almost untouched, thought had been developing quietly in the furthest corner of Harry's mind the last twenty four hours. It wasn't something he usually would have thought about. After he had discovered the facts he had just accepted them as they were, letting them be the last memories of what had turned out to be a great man. But now that that great man was sitting there beside him sipping tea… Would he finally get to know the man who had grown up with his mother? Who had forsaken his own life in order to repent a mistake of his youth? Harry was surprised, perhaps pleasantly, that after so many years getting to know his mother was not his first priority. Getting to know the man who had shadowed him through his entire childhood, was. But it had to start at the point where they had something in common, and a second apology was in order.

'I…' Harry began, trying to compose something half decent in his mind. 'I am sorry. Again. About everything. I never knew your reasons for protecting me, for hating Voldemort… and I want to say I am sorry for how I behaved towards you. That I never chose to listen to you, like I shou-'

'Please,' said Snape and held up his hand to halt Harry in his ramblings. 'I was dying. I would never have parted with those memories if I thought there was even the slightest chance of my survival. Least of all to _you_.'

Harry had to admit it stung a bit. The fact that he had been Snape's last confidant on his deathbed had gone a long way to make him forgive Snape's behaviour towards him for seven years. But of course nothing was as easy as that. He had pondered through the long nights while the clean up after the Battle of Hogwarts was in progress why Snape had trusted those memories to him. Was it to give him his last mission in the war? A last explanation to his mother's untimely death? Or just to clean his own name? Eventually Harry had just concluded that it had to be all three, as no simple explanation could ever come from Snape.

But still, Harry had prided himself the confidant, even if there really hadn't been any other options at the time. He was proud that he had taken the information and done the right thing.

He _had_ done the right thing. And then he hadn't done anything more.

**III**

It was evening and after having picked up Lily from the ballet practice Harry was busy trying to get a hold of either Hermione or Ron on the phone. Hermione finally answered and seemed quite pleased by the invitation for supper. Just like Ginny and himself they hadn't really seen the reason for making dinner after the kids left for school.

'Just be prepared for a _shock_,' Harry warned them before hanging up. 'Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione are coming for dinner today,' he then informed Lily who sat on the kitchen bench beside Snape who was busy chopping up tomatoes.

'Yay!' she smiled and dangled her feet in excitement, 'Mr. Snape is making curry and I am helping.'

Harry wondered how Lily could be so undaunted by Snape's presence, Harry having almost wet his pants because of his strict teacher more than once when he was older than her. But Snape didn't seem to have as much against Lily as he had had against Harry. He was currently showing her how to properly cut the ginger root without cutting herself.

'Oh joy, the golden trio is reuniting,' commented Snape dryly and left Lily alone with the sharp knife.

'She is not allowed to use that knife,' Harry said, his hands itching to take it away from her. Snape just gave him a forbidding stare, stopping Harry in his progress towards the counter.

'Twelve year olds aren't allowed to handle swords either, but some do it anyway,' sneered Snape. It was almost like being back in potions class, except now Harry was thirty seven and in his own kitchen.

'Look Dad, isn't Snape's hair pretty? He let me braid it! Do you know how long it takes to get such long hair? Nineteen years! But he says there are other ways to make my hair grow; he says that you know how. Why haven't you told me?'

'Err… yes Snape's hair is very pretty. I mean- err… yes. That many years really? Well I do, but you'll have to ask your mother about that. I just heard the floo grate open; won't you go and welcome Ron and Hermione?'

Harry could see the corner of Snape's mouth quirk upward and humour glinted in his eyes. Indeed Lily must have been able to endear herself to Snape somehow, for Harry had certainly never seen the man smile unless some impending doom was waiting for a hapless Gryffindor.

'So Harry, what was this huge shock you wanted us to be prepared fo-' Hermione interrupted herself with a scream and stopped dead in the doorway, her mouth hanging open as she stared at Snape who studiously ignored her. Ron was standing just behind her, a mirrored expression on his face.

'That is Severus Snape,' informed Lily as she came skipping into the kitchen, 'he has the same name as Albus and he got reeeaaally long hair!'

The worst of the shock had died down after Harry had explained yesterday's event, and they were all sitting around the dining table eating Snape's(and Lily's) delicious chicken curry.

'It's amazing how you can remember cooking after twenty years,' said Ron as he was giving himself a second helping. The fact that it had been Snape who had made it seemed to concern him little. Becoming a father had helped a long way to grow up, and any childish squirminess about the evil Potions professor trying to poison them was absent.

'Could you please explain everything that happened between you waking up in your coffin and to the point where you knocked on Harry's door?' asked Hermione, who was predictably more interested in the scientific part of it than the curry.

'Hermione please,' said Harry through a mouthful of chicken, 'can't all this wait until after we have eaten?'

Hermione had been about to say something more, but covered over it by shoveling rice into her mouth and chewing on it thoughtfully. Harry supposed even Hermione understood when the quest for knowledge was going too far. Barely.

Neither of the adults said anything more during the meal, but not because of lack of topics to talk about. Lily was chattering endlessly about ballet, riding, princesses, unicorns, dragons and Snape's hair, everyone else feigning great interest. Looking sideways at Snape, Harry was wondering when the man would crack and deduct her fifty points before giving her detention. To his continued surprise it seemed like Snape was perhaps the only one not pretending to be listening. He nodded at the end of every sentence and came with an "hm" and an "indeed" every now and again when she had to draw her breath. Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged glances across the table, now completely absorbed by the conversation held by Hogwart's most feared teacher through time and Harry Potter's youngest daughter, aged ten years and seven months:

'_Actually_,' said Lily in a tone of voice that brought Harry straight back to his first trip on the Hogwart's Express and meeting with Hermione. 'I think that most of the fairytale princesses are idiots! They do nothing but laze around waiting for the prince to rescue them. I mean, seriously, _everyone_ knows that guys are good for nothing. That's what my mum says.'

'Lily, that is not true,' chastised Harry, irritated that Ginny was teaching her scorn towards males at such a young age.

'Come now Potter,' murmured Snape, 'the girl has a point.'

'Snape!' ground Harry out through gritted teeth, trying not to show Lily how annoyed he was. 'If you say that she'll go around believing it.'

'There are worse things to believe,' commented Snape dryly in return, with perhaps just an ounce of steely ice in there. 'Like one's own self importance.'

Harry opened his mouth to answer, but closed it, hurt. Smiling vainly he pretended not to have understood what the comment was directed at.

**IV**

'Will Snape stay for a long time?' asked Lily as she let her red hair cascade over the star-patterned pillow, snuggling her unicorn. 'I hope he will, he's really cool.'

Harry couldn't hold back his surprised laugh at her statement. A lot of unexpected things had happened, but somehow meeting his dead professor waking from the grave was a tad less surreal than hearing his daughter praising him.

'He told me he was your professor at Hogwarts,' continued Lily, undisturbed by Harry's lack of understanding for the coolness that was Snape. 'He said you were a dunderhead and deserved to have been put in detention during the entire time you were there.'

Inclining his head, still laughing quietly to himself, Harry tucked in Lily and pecked her on the forehead.

'I think Snape might stay here a bit longer, but I don't know how long,' he finally answered, sighing. _Probably not too long_, he added to himself, _it doesn't seem like he has come over his dislike for me just yet. _

Walking down the stairs Harry could hear Hermione lecturing about one thing or another, and peeking into the living room he found her standing a few steps away from Snape, gesticulating excitedly. Snape on the other hand had crossed his arms and was standing with his back towards her, intently staring out the window again. Ron, on the other hand, was sitting in Harry's favourite chair leafing through the latest edition of Witch Weekly with a disgusted look on his face.

'But you must admit this is really exciting,' said Hermione, leaning over trying to catch Snape's eyes. 'From a strictly scientific point of view this is amazing!'

Turning his head away from her, Snape hunched his shoulders and muttered something Harry couldn't hear. The excited smile faded from Hermione's face, but she still opened her mouth to continue her pushy persuasion.

'I am sure Snape is more than willing to answer some of your questions,' said Harry stepping into the living room. 'But let's give him a bit more rest first, shall we?'

Hermione turned around and raised her eyebrows at him, her keen sense of compassion finally overriding her thirst for knowledge, and she smiled embarrassed. 'Of course,' she said, 'I am sorry, Professor, I got a bit carried away.' Snape waved a hand dismissively but didn't deign her with a reply.

Not long after that Ginny finally returned from work, tired but happy to find her brother and good friend on a visit. She didn't even mention Snape's continued stay or Harry's absence from work.

**V**

Opening his eyes Harry found that everything around him was darkness, the only illumination the street lights shining vaguely through the fog outside. It took him a few more moments to remember that he was supposed to be asleep. Peering at the clock on the night stand table he growled angrily at himself when he found it to be just half past two. It wasn't until he had all that established that he began wondering why he had awakened in the middle of the night in the first place. There was something disturbing him, but he couldn't put his finger on it. Rolling around and resting an arm around Ginny he felt himself drifting away again, holding her familiar and sleepy form close to himself. But just as he was about to dip into sleep something pulled him out and he opened his eyes wide.

Something was very much wrong.

Without thinking he got up from bed and silently tip-toed over to the door. Putting his ear against it Harry tried to listen whether there were some unfamiliar sounds, but everything was silent. Carefully not to wake Ginny he opened the door and walked into the pitch-black corridor. At the end he could barely see a silver strip of light fall onto the carpet through a door that stood slightly ajar. It was the door into Snape's room. Again Harry tried to listen for any suspicious sounds, but all he could hear was Snape's raspy breath. His mind not being completely awake it took him yet another moment to remember that people weren't supposed to breathe that way. Knocking carefully on the door he wasn't too surprised when he got no answer. There was something gnawing at him that went beyond common worry, something was wrong, and so he didn't bother to knock one more time before entering the room. It was just as dark in Snape's room as it had been in his own, but Harry's night vision was kicking in. Opening his eyes wide Harry used what little light there was to search through the room. He could hear the laboured breathing, but Snape was nowhere to be found. Thinking maybe he didn't see as well as he thought Harry walked over to the bed and felt his way, but there was no one there. The breathing came from behind him. Turning around his heart stopped cold in his chest and the hair rose on his neck like hackles. In the chair by the dresser sat Snape completely still, slumped in on himself, but his fingers were gripping around the armrests like dead claws.

'Snape?' Harry whispered, startled by his own voice in the silence, but Snape didn't show any sign of hearing him. Leaning over he touched one of the hands carefully, nearly retching when he felt the coldness of it. He had felt that sick, unnatural coldness before; in corpses.

But just as he was to retract his hand in horror something changed in Snape's breath. With painful slowness he rose his head, the black hair having fallen forward shadowing his face completely. It was like watching a frozen corpse animate itself, and in muted disbelief Harry watched Snape bend lose his fingers and sit up straight in the chair.

'H-harry...' he whispered, his voice as raspy and chilling as it had been the night before. 'Harry Potter?'

'Y-yes,' stuttered Harry past his fear, clutching the hand as if his life depended on it. He dared not let it go. 'It's me.'

The coal black eyes opened with a snap, staring right into Harry's.

'I think I... fell asleep...?'

Harry thought quietly to himself that Snape had not fallen asleep, he had been dying again. Something in him compelled him to keep silent about it, and so he said nothing more.


	3. Chapter III

**Chapter III**

**I **

'Where were you last night?' asked Ginny. Her voice wasn't cross or angry, merely curious. She stood by the counter with her teacup, dipping biscuits in the golden liquid and sucking noisily at them. Harry had just entered the kitchen, trying to stifle a yawn, and felt his guard promptly rise.

'What do you mean?' he asked, feeling the waterboiler if there was more water left. Just enough for one cup.

'I woke up when you left the room,' informed Ginny. 'I figured you were just going to the toilet, but when I woke up again this morning you were still gone. You never get up before me, usually.'

'I- well,' Harry gave a shrug. He did want to tell her about last night, but where to begin? _"You have a dead man in your house Ginny. He's currently telling your daughter how to make Fast Gro' potions. Suck it up."_ It wasn't responsible. Ginny was tired of Harry not being responsible. And so he lied. 'I was going to the bathroom, but found Snape up so we had a long chat.' Ginny raised her eyebrows and nodded, before stuffing the remainder of her biscuit in her mouth.

'Had to be a long chat indeed,' she commented. 'Speaking of chats, we need to have one, about our current guest.'

Harry had feared this. But of course they would have to talk about it. He had invited a stranger, a somewhat stranger, a known murderer, despite his spying history, into their home without consulting her. Taking his cup of tea over to the table he tried to put on his best "I am listening" face.

'You do understand that at one point we'll have to alarm the authorities?' she asked. Harry opened his mouth to answer, but settled with a nod. 'Of course, he's sound enough of mind to do it on his own,' she continued, 'but we have no idea what all this is. If I hadn't known better I would say some dark magic is involved. Snape doesn't act like he _himself_ is behind it though, because honestly, would your house be the first place he'd go to after being dead for nineteen years? I'd assume he'd rather go to the Malfoys. Or even Hogwarts.' Ginny of course made good points, and Harry couldn't do much but concede to them.

'You mean someone must have cursed him?' said Harry. Ginny shrugged a shoulder and nodded. 'I am pretty certain you're right… Voldemort?'

'It's impossible to say,' answered Ginny. 'At least for now, but I don't know how safe I feel to have him around Lily. Despite-'

'Despite the fact that he dotes upon her and she adores him?' asked Harry, and couldn't help the smile crawling across his face. Ginny had to laugh.

'I wonder if it's a dead giveaway that she might just sort into Slytherin next year,' she mused. 'Well, at least Al will be able to take care of her.' It had come as somewhat of a shock when they received Al's (and James') letters explaining that Al had sorted into Slytherin. Ron had blamed it on the name they had burdened him with. _"If you call him Severus he'll turn into a Severus,"_ he'd said, completely forgetting that in such a case, Al was just as much an Albus. Hermione had politely pointed that out, but it had fallen on deaf ears.

'After so many generations of Gryffindors, for someone to sort into Slytherin of all houses seem a bit strange,' said Harry. The clock above the door struck ten. He had to be at the ministry in an hour. Maybe he could call in sick one more day; he really didn't want to leave Snape alone, not after what he had witnessed that night. Ginny poured out the rest of her tea, lumpy with biscuit crumbs, into the sink and made ready to floo to work. Apparently she had an interview with the seeker of Falmouth Falcons. Lately they had risen in popularity together with their continuous winning streak, and where there were popular Quidditch stories to be had there was Ginny. Getting up from the kitchen table Harry had just enough time to crowd her against the fireplace and give her a sound goodbye kiss.

'Love you,' she called over her shoulder as she disappeared in the green flames. Quidditch always made her giddy. Harry smiled.

'So Eve lets Adam into paradise once in a while?' drawled a voice behind him. Turning, Harry gave Snape a weak smile. In daylight the man looked human and alive enough. His complexion was still pallid and he was thin as a wraith, but his eyes glittered and his movements were smooth. 'I chatted with Granger and apparently she has already concocted several theories,' continued Snape as Harry put away the floo powder.

'Oh, that's interest- you _what_?' asked Harry perplexed. 'You _chatted _with Hermione?'

'Yes. I was just reading the newspaper when your IM logged on automatically and she popped up.'

'Wait, wait, _wait_,' Harry made stop motions with his hands. 'You've been gone for two decades. How do you know all this about computers?' Snape gave a deep sigh of impatience.

'It's isn't terribly difficult,' he said, 'it all stands right _there_. If you just read, all the information one could ever wish for is right in front of your eyes.'

They had been walking back into the family room where the computer stood. Snape sat down in the chair in front of it casually, as if it was indeed his machine, and not Harry's.

'I suppose you are right,' conceded Harry. 'But since I'm stupid, and lazy, could you please decipher that wall of text for me?' He was hanging over Snape's shoulder, who had to scroll quite a bit to get at the top of everything Hermione had typed out. 'I'd swear she didn't actually have a job,' murmured Harry, 'it has to be quiet at the Ministry.'

'Speaking of work,' drawled Snape, 'don't you have one? Or is the Boy Who Lived excused from such otherwise obligatory nonsense?'

'I am the Head of the Auror Department,' said Harry, trying to quell the pride in his voice. 'But you shouldn't talk; you're the _Man_ Who Lived, now.' Something that could only be described as a startled laugh emitted from Snape. He shook his head, vainly covering his grin with a hand, pretending it was just a casual gesture.

'Severus Snape, the Man Who Lived,' he murmured, typing something to Hermione. 'Sounds ridiculous.' A request for a cam conversation popped up and Harry leaned over Snape to accept it. He steadied himself with one arm on the back of the chair, brushing by Snape's shoulder. Upon righting himself he gained eye contact with the other man. His heart skipped a beat, thumping painfully against his chest. Snape's expression mirrored how he felt; perplexed and surprised. A cough interrupted them.

'I'm sorry, but I don't have all day,' said Hermione businesslike.

'This is just like flooing,' observed Snape, and Hermione's bossy expression melted into a wide smile.

'Isn't it wonderful that the wizarding world is finally catching up with electronics?' she chirped. 'I have said it's been long overdue, but it doesn't seem like they quite understood what I meant.'

'It's totally awesome,' conceded Harry, deliberately making his voice overly excited. Either Hermione didn't understand his sarcasm, or more likely, chose to ignore his childishness, for she continued undisturbed.

'Well, as far as Dark Arts go, I am not the expert, you Professor Snape is far beyond even me regarding that,' said Hermione, and Snape inclined his head, taking it as a compliment. Hermione and Harry exchanged a gaze. 'I couldn't really sleep what with all this happening,' she said, 'so I spent the night making a chart, trying to discern what could have happened, and what couldn't. The fact that you seem to not remember anything regarding it, leads me to believe that this was cast upon you, that you were jinxed, so to say. But how, that's a different matter entirely.' She took a deep breath. 'Of course, we'd be stupid not to ask ourselves the question: "is it really Snape?" I am sorry if it offends, but I might just have spent most of the time on that particular question, researching ways to make polyjuice with a dead persons DNA. Again, this gives us yet another series of questions such as "_why_?"

Snape was leaning back in the chair, stroking a finger across his lips, listening intently to Hermione as she raised theories and beat them down again. Her suggestion that he might be someone pretending to be Snape was merely rewarded by a raised eyebrow.

'I think, at least personally, that there is no doubt that Snape is indeed Severus Snape,' inserted Harry when Hermione made to take another breath. 'I don't have any scientific facts to prove it, merely my intuition, though.'

'Yes heavens, we can't doubt _Potter's_ intuition, now can we,' said Snape. 'If feelings should have factual merit, then it has to be _his_ feelings, after all.'

Harry couldn't help the tug on his lips, and despite himself he broke into a grin. What a despicable man Snape still was, but he had a way of seeing and pointing out things, that really, when you got right down to it, was funny. So Harry shrugged a shoulder at Hermione, still grinning, and she merely nodded.

'We'll just have the idea that it might not really be Snape in the back of our heads, and rather concentrate on figuring out how it really could be him,' she said and begun shuffling some papers on her desk. 'I couldn't thank Arthur enough for the breakthrough he did with muggle technology in the wizarding world. If you go onto the Ministry's homepage I'll give you my password and you'll be able to access the records. This way you can see what Snape's current status is.'

Leaning over Snape again, Harry opened the browser and typed in the address.

'Do you want to sit on the _seat_ instead?' asked Snape, staring levelly at Harry who was balancing delicately on the chair's armrest.

'No, I'm fine,' he smiled, 'but thanks.' He pretended not to hear the vexed sigh emitted from Snape and concentrated on entering the password instead. The register spent some time loading. Both men stared at it, feelings a part of them die, but Hermione cheerfully begun guiding them through all the information until they found the file they were interested in and downloaded it.

"_Severus Tobias Prince Snape_" it read, followed by dates of birth and death, birthplace, parents and bloodline. There was a short account of his progress through Hogwarts. Harry sucked in a breath upon seeing Snape's above excellent grades. He had only seen such a perfect score once before, and that was Hermione's. Still in amazement Harry continued to read every bit of information collected on Snape as a Death Eater; sightings done by aurors, his short stay in Azkaban during a period, the testimony of Karkaroff and eventually his employment at Hogwarts. Impatiently Snape gestured for Harry to keep scrolling downwards. This was not new information to him; he was interested in what had happened after his supposed death. They read in silence: _"Lost his life by the hands of Tom Marvolo Riddle aka Voldemort during the Battle of Hogwarts. Currently buried on Hogwart's grounds. Case regarding his innocence pleaded open by Harry James Potter: received positive upon application to have Mr. Severus Snape's Headmaster portrait at Hogwarts. Case Status: Still open, no resolution." _

Snape had fallen silent, eventually getting up from the chair and leaving the room, after having read his file. Harry had continued to chat with Hermione who had quite a few hypotheses regarding Snape's resurrection. Quietly, leaning close to the mic, Harry had told her everything that had happened the previous night. Hermione had listened with a serious face that darkened slightly when he had finished. 'I haven't told Snape about it,' said Harry, 'it doesn't seem like he is aware of it. I'll check up on him again tonight, to see if it's a recurring thing.' Hermione nodded.

'Be sure that you do, Harry,' she answered just as quietly, 'this does indeed exclude quite a few of my scenarios. To be frank, it nullifies them all." Despite the setback it seemed as if this brightened her spirit somewhat because she straightened her back and smiled. 'A real mystery again, Harry,' she said. 'It's been such a long time.' Feeling lighter than he had in a long time Harry said his goodbyes and turned off the computer. A mystery. His fingers were tingling.

**II**

Putting on his jacket and donning his wintershoes what with autumn having turned out to be unseasonably cold, Harry searched for Snape both in the kitchen and out in the winter garden. Eventually he walked half way up the stairs and called for him. The man emerged and stood staring down at him, arms crossed.

'What?' he barked.

'I'm heading out to get some groceries and picking up Lily,' informed Harry, 'I was wondering if you wanted to come along? You know, getting out of the house a bit.'

Black eyebrows were raised in surprise. 'I- don't have any shoes,' said Snape at length. Harry had been expecting a quick and sharp decline to his offer, and so the answer took him off guard.

'Of course you don't,' he eventually said. Snape had nothing. Ascending the stairs hurriedly he stood next to the man who still protected himself behind his crossed arms. 'What's your shoesize?' They both stared at Snape's feet held warm by a pair of woolen socks Harry had never used.

'I don't remember,' said Snape. 'I never bought shoes in a muggle shop.'

'Hm,' said Harry and took off his own shoe, placing his foot next to Snape's. 'Yours is slimmer all around,' he pointed out. 'Perhaps… ah! Of course, Ted has some boots laying here; I think they might fit you. Wait.'

Heading into Ted's old room, Snape's now, Harry began rummaging around in the cupboard. It was a complete mess, and he made a mental note that he had to do some tidying up. On his quest he found an old coat he supposed fit Snape rather well, if he would have it.

'Ted?' asked Snape from behind him. Turning around Harry saw the man leaning against the doorframe, watching his progress through the chaos. 'As in Lupin's boy?'

'Yes, that Ted. I am his godfather, so he has spent many a summer here.' Harry held up the coat for Snape's approval and upon his nod tossed it over to him. 'We need to get you your own clothes,' continued Harry, head back in the closet, 'I believe Ted to be your exact size, so until then I suppose his clothes will do- wait; you knew Ted was Remus' son?' His attention snapped back to the man standing behind him. Ted hadn't been born until after Dumbledore's death, so it seemed curious that Snape would know anything about him.

'Remus and Nymphadora's child. I am very well aware,' Snape said. 'I was headmaster when he was born; I saw his name in the book.'

'Huh… 'was all Harry could muster and instead of continuing the conversation he turned back to his self-imposed task. It turned out fruitful mere moments later when he managed to find the boots he'd been thinking of. They were in good condition, regular style army boots, nothing fancy. Harry was pretty certain, no matter how much he would have loved to see it, that Snape wasn't about to walk around with high heeled boots ornamented with little bats. Snape accepted these however and they discovered that Harry's eye measurement was superb.

'It's what happens to you when you get kids,' explained Harry, glad Snape wasn't making a ruckus about having to borrow someone else's clothes or shoes. Just as they were about to head out the door, Harry took a moment to look at him once more. Standing there, studying their family portrait again, dressed in Ted's coat and boots and Harry's trousers and shirt, it seemed like it had been an entirely different world where this man had been capable of killing Dumbledore, of spreading so much fear, hate and ager. He could somewhat remember that dark pit of passionate hate he had felt for the other man. It had seemed endless, about to engulf him completely. The Snape standing impatiently in front of him now and raising a quizzical eyebrow had to be someone else he didn't quite know yet. Involuntarily his mind dived back down memory lane and brought up a picture of the Half-Blood Prince's potionsbook. Yes, this was definitely a different Snape.

The first raindrop fell on the windshield just as they got into the car. It took perhaps two seconds before the sky opened up and buckets of water poured down. The world seemed an unnatural dark grey for being so early in the afternoon.

'Holy crap,' muttered Harry, peering up at the sky through the frantic movements of the wiper. He couldn't help a weak laugh as he got the car going. 'Are you all buckled in?' he asked automatically, reaching for the belt himself.

'Whatever _for_?' protested Snape, arms arcos his chest again.

'For if we crash you _die_,' explained Harry with all the patience of a father of three. '_Again_.'

'Maybe I can't die,' said Snape, rather smugly.

'Well, you are not testing that theory in my car,' said Harry, turning on him fully. 'I can sit here the entire day if need be, we are not going anywhere unless you wear your seatbelt.'

'I just don't understand why,' said Snape, 'why don't you just cast a protective spell on the car?'

Harry turned back to stare out at the rain through the window on his own side. He was kneading the wheel and eventually just shrugged. 'We don't do it that way anymore. The Ministry feels it was the casual way everyone relied on magic that made them feel superior to muggles. It's discouraged to use magic for everything, and as a public figure I have to set a good example.'

A deep silence lapsed between them. Snape's silence was so acute Harry felt his skin itch and he couldn't but carefully look sidewise at him, trying to gauge the other man's expression. Snape was just staring at him, a light pinch of irritation around his mouth. 'Evans and Potter must be rolling around in their graves at this point,' he said dryly. 'Very well, at last Harry Potter is riding it safe.'

'Yeah,' scoffed Harry and finally put the car in motion. 'And it's fucking boring.'

**III**

The rain was not stopping Lily. She was running through it together with two of her best friends; the brothers Jack and John Fawcett. They were also expected to be entering Hogwarts in about two year's time and the three of them had made an instant bond. Of course, neither of them were the expert that she was when it came to magical creatures, but they were cool never the less. Gaining momentum by starting the run at the entrance door of the school, Lily had good speed when she closed in on the gigantic rainpuddle she knew to be there. She had seen it from her classroom window and had been awaiting the splash it would make all since then. So now she was running, Jack and John right behind her, as fast as she could, not caring one bit about everyone else who had to dive out of her way. Three meter left, she gathered all of her wiry strength and jumped. She practically flew through the air, she could tell everyone later, and landed in the puddle that splashed up all around her. It must have gotten deeper because she could swear she went under with her head. Splashing around with victory a pair of strong hands suddenly caught her around the chest and pulled her up. She was wet through all her layers of clothes, and vaguely she fretted about the interior of her backpack, but when she saw the thunderous face of her Dad she became more concerned with her own wellbeing.

After Dad had shoved her into the car, the silence got oppressing. Snape sat in the front seat and was the only reason Dad hadn't already begun his scolding. Despite all this, she couldn't help the proud smile from spreading across her face.

'I did magic, didn't I?' she finally asked through the rattling of her teeth. Even if it was warm inside the car, she was cold to her very bones. Dad didn't answer. 'Right?' she prodded; she wanted him to be just a little bit happy for her. 'Dad?'

'When I first met your grandmother she did almost exactly the same magic as you did now,' said Snape. Lily's heart skipped a beat.

'My grandmother?' she echoed, 'you knew her?'

Dad gave Snape the dark glare that Lily had come to know as the "Warning Look", it meant you were saying things you weren't supposed to. But Snape wasn't afraid of Dad, not at all.

'I did,' he conceded, 'a long time ago.'

'Snape,' warned Dad, and Snape turned to him instead.

'Are you going to let your daughter freeze to death, then?' he countered, 'why don't you use a warming spell so she doesn't have to be so cold?'

'I have told you; we don't use magic like that anymore,' growled Dad, 'she'll have to deal with the consequences of her actions.' Mommy used to say Dad had a wicket temper, but in a good way. This was different, she could see by the way he was hunching his shoulders and gripping the wheel. Yet it didn't seem like that was going to deter Snape.

'So you'd rather have her get pneumonia then?' he asked coldly. His voice was so calm and soft Lily felt herself involuntarily lean back in her seat to get away from him. This was not the Snape she knew. Dad had noticed the change as well, he must have, because he was sitting up straighter, alternating his attention between Snape and the road. 'She's a witch, you ought to be proud,' continued Snape, even more deadly. 'Are you going to make her feel ashamed of what she was born to be? I did _not_ sacrifice my life i to free the wizarding world from a dictatorial madman just for them to suppress themselves!'

Something in the air changed. Dad suddenly wheeled the car around, stopping so abruptly that hadn't Lily been wearing her seatbelt she would have crashed into the seat in front of her. Tears threatened to spill, but she valiantly fought them back. Dad reached into his jacket and pulled out his wand. Lily very rarely saw him wield it, and something in the way he pointed it at Snape made her quiver from something quite different than cold. Snape didn't flinch. But Dad turned around and pointed the wand at her. For a half terrified second she was certain Dad was going to hex or jinx her, but when she felt her clothes dry and her skin warm she realized what was happening. Just a warming spell.

'Satisfied?' asked Dad, but Snape didn't answer.


	4. Chapter IV

**Chapter IV**

**I**

It was a bit past one in the morning. The house was dark and silent. Shadows crept across the floor, merging with each other. Harry was trying to sneak down the corridor, past the bathroom, Lily's room, the boys' room, the hallway closet and finally to Snape's room at the end, just above the staircase. Leaning against the door he tried to listen. It was awfully quiet. Perhaps _too_ quiet. He held his breath, but the thumping of heartbeats in his ears drowned out all the small sounds he was trying to listen for. Slowly he let his breath out again, wincing at the loudness of it. For a moment he pondered fetching his wand, but just as he was about to remove himself from the door it opened violently. Startled, Harry whimpered just before losing his balance and fell heavily into the man on the other side of the door.

'Oomph,' complained Snape. Removing himself, he watched with detached amusement as Harry fell the last distance and connected with the floor. 'What are you doing lurking outside my room?' he demanded. Looking up and into the stern face, further caricatured by the dark shadows of the room, Harry was eleven years old again and sneaking out after curfew.

'I-I'm sorry, I was just going to the bathroom and took a wrong turn and- … wait a second.'

'Hah,' said Snape, pointedly crossing his arms. Harry got up without assistance and brushed off his pyjamas.

'You're scary in the dark,' ground Harry out. 'I've still got trauma from school.'

'Serves you right, sneaking about getting in trouble at all hours. I never got a proper night's sleep.'

Well, thought Harry, he had seen Snape in his sleepwear one too many times, true. This time there were no grey nightshirts, however, merely a blue pair of pyjama trousers and one of Ted's baggy band t-shirts. Harry wasn't certain Snape would approve of Rammstein, or whatever it was. But then again, Snape _had_ enjoyed playing one of Ted's ridiculous online games for a good few hours last evening. Harry wondered when Snape would start making sense and stop giving him a headache.

'Doesn't seem like you're sleeping now, either,' commented Harry dryly at Snape's last retort. 'I was merely wondering if you wanted to have a cup of tea with me.'

'_Now_?' Snape peered at the alarm clock on his nightstand table. 'Shouldn't you be in bed with, oh I don't know, your _wife_?'

'Ginny is a big girl, she isn't afraid to sleep alone.'

'….very well then.'

Harry was whistling a tune to make the silence go away. He wasn't really certain what tune it was, but he'd heard it plenty of times, _somewhere_. Probably one of Lily's cartoons. 'Do you want any milk or sugar in your tea?'

'Just half a spoon of sugar.'

While rummaging around in the cupboard Harry realized he had forgotten to pick up biscuits. 'No biscuits,' he informed. He was met with a disapproving glare when he turned around.

'Then I want milk in it.'

'You're worse than Lily.'

'I just know what I like.'

Harry gave Snape his milk and then sat down opposite him. 'I'm happy you're tolerating staying here,' he said, ponderously stirring in his own sugar. 'At least you haven't vocalized any dislike towards it.'

'No, that would both be ungrateful and unhelpful, it's not like I have anywhere else to go,' said Snape. 'And while we're on the subject; do you have any idea what happened to my belongings?'

'I suspect they would have been auctioned off. I wasn't responsible for all that. I think McGonagall was.' Harry shrugged a shoulder in apology. 'It was many years ago, I can't really remember.'

'And McGonagall is still alive?'

'Yes, very much so,' nodded Harry. 'She's Headmistress at Hogwarts.'

'Old bat.'

'Your words, not mine.'

For a while they were content drinking their tea. Harry was vaguely aware that he was getting drowsy, but the novelty of sitting down and drinking tea like this with _Severus Snape_ chased away any thought of bed. 'It's sort of fantastic,' said Harry, continuing on a conversation that was going on inside his head. There was a lot in the word "fantastic". He decided he wanted to share it. 'You're alive. You've been given another chance-….' Harry spent a few moments trying to conjure up the right words to describe his feelings. 'I'm at a loss of words,' he finally admitted, trying to cover over his choked voice by coughing. Carefully he rubbed at his cheek, pretending he saw something interesting outside the window that wasn't just his own reflection.

'Are you _crying_?' asked Snape incredulously.

'No,' mumbled Harry.

'I still know legilimency,' informed Snape, 'not that I need it on you.'

'I guess it's just that you-,' Harry took a deep breath, trying to collect himself, 'you bring back a lot of memories I thought I had forgotten, or at the very least come to terms with. I suppose I'm not as okay with it as I presumed.'

'Of course the resurrection of someone presumed dead would be startling to anyone but-'

'It's not that!' interrupted Harry. Snape indignantly snapped his mouth shut. 'I'm sorry, of course that was a shock, it's just that- …I named my _son_ after you. Don't you think I've been thinking about you after your dea-disappearance? Don't you think I've been going over everything that transpired between the two of us, over and over again? In the end it turned out that the man I hated the most in the world sacrificed his life for me, and-'

'You're making no sense,' said Snape coldly. The onslaught of feelings was making him uncomfortable. 'You're obviously projecting something.'

'No,' said Harry and straightened his back. Meeting Snape's eyes squarely took some effort, but he did it. Why did they have to be so black? It was like looking into two mirrors; all he saw was the reflection of his own green eyes. 'Even if it's just the memory of you I am fond of, I_ am_ fond of you. You can argue that as much as you want, but I am an adult now, married with three children, I am able to rationalize my thoughts and actions.'

Something minuscule changed in Snape. A muscle in his face twitched and he took a sip of his tea to hide it. The hand holding the cup was shaking. When he removed the chinaware his expression was back to stone. 'Last time I saw you, I thought you were going to your death,' he said. 'That even after everything that had been happening; I would still be sending Lily's son to the Dark Lord to die.'

'Well, I _did_ die,' confirmed Harry quietly, 'but I was given another chance …Just like you?'

'No, I think what happened to you, and what has happened to me, are quite different things. I'd suspect a Horcrux, except I never made one.'

'True. Hermione and I sort of excluded all possibilities that had your involvement in them.'

'That's either quite foolish of you, or very kind. I am going for the former.'

'Having a tea party just the two of you, are you?' asked a sleepy voice from the door. Ginny stood huddled inside her gigantic bathrobe, tufts of red hair poking out in interesting directions.

'I would have invited you, too,' offered Harry, 'but you were snoring so loudly I dared not wake you.'

Walking across the kitchen with quick strides, Ginny picked up the discarded newspaper lying on the counter on her way. Without hesitating she smacked Harry square across the head with a satisfying whack. 'I don't snore!' she declared, using the whack of the paper as an extra exclamation mark. Harry laughed, weakly trying to protect himself against the onslaught. Snape's eyes were glittering in merriment at the abuse.

**II**

The long, black hair slid through her fingers like silk. Snape was sitting hairmodel for Lily. He had protested, but eventually capitulated when she had put her hands to her hips and pursed her lips. It really _did_ work on men. Now he sat in the chair she had pointed him to, reading one of Dad's books. Apparently they weren't angry with each other anymore, Snape and Dad. Neither were they annoyed with Lily, for that matter, about the entire magic thing. Mommy had been proud when she had heard, but told her that she shouldn't do such things in front of muggles. Fair enough, but it just wasn't as impressive doing it in front of wizards; they already knew what it took. A couple of things had been bothering Lily, however, and she supposed this was a good time to get some answers.

'You're supposed to be dead,' she declared. No point beating around the bush.

'What?' asked Snape with that far away voice adults got when they had just heard that you said _something_, but not what.

'You're supposed to be dead,' said Lily again, 'together with Sirius and Grandpa and Granny and Remus and-'

Snape had turned and was looking at her, an eyebrow raised.

'You know about that, do you?' he asked.

'I am not stupid,' informed Lily levelly, 'Dad has told me about the Battle of Hogwarts one too many times, you know. He has named all his children after dead people he cared about. I am named after Granny and Remus. James is named after Grandpa and Sirius and Albus is named after Dumbledore and _you_. All _dead_ people.'

'The brains must have skipped a generation,' said Snape, shutting his book with a snap. 'Because you didn't inherit _that_ from your father.'

Lily gave a delicate shrug and crossed her arms. She had been imitating Snape's raised brow in the mirror, and was now trying its effects. All it did was make Snape raise his own. He did it in many different ways, sometimes when he was angry, irritated, annoyed, or when he didn't feel like actually smiling but thought something to be funny. This was the funny one. Jutting out her jaw, Lily tried to raise hers even further. She wasn't about to lose this battle.

They stood glaring at each other for a long while and just when Lily thought she couldn't keep her face that stern any longer, Snape gave a short cough and his entire face changed. He was smiling wide, teeth showing and everything, laughing and shaking his head. Lily couldn't help but giggle along with him. At last Snape straightened up, shook his head one last time and composed himself.

'So you wanted to know why I am not dead, do you?' he asked, and Lily nodded. She realized she was probably being rude about it; you didn't just go around asking why people weren't dead. But Snape didn't seem to find the question all that unsettling. 'None of us have really managed to find a satisfactory answer to that question. _Yet_.' Snape stressed the last word.

'It's a bit creepy that you woke up from the dead on Hallows Eve,' said Lily, pondering the entire problem while tapping her hairbrush against her lips. Snape cocked his head at her.

'That is true,' he murmured. 'I did wake up on all Hallows Eve. A peculiar date.'

'And we know you're not a zombie because you're pretty smart for an adult, and you're not a vampire because you can handle sunlight, and I don't think you're a werewolf either.'

'No, definitely _not_ a werewolf,' conceded Snape.

'We have to get to the bottom of this!' declared Lily passionately, and smacked her hairbrush against the palm of her hand. 'You can't just walk around being dead.'

**III**

The dusty tome gave an agonized creak every time one of its thick, waxed pages was turned. Hermione pushed her glasses further up her nose. They kept sliding down when she peered at the tiny typing. The book she studied was handwritten in unintelligible cursive; the language a mix of old English and Latin. Harry stood behind her for a while, curious about this huge monster of a book, but couldn't even read the name on the front, much less anything within. Snape stood behind Hermione's other shoulder, seemingly quite comfortable in reading and understanding it. Once in a while Hermione would point at a paragraph and Snape would either nod or shake his head, and that was all Hermione needed before continuing on. It was like they had their very own sign language that no one else could decipher. Tiring of feeling like an idiot, Harry joined Ron at the computer. It was going slow and he was cursing soundly.

'I think we should do it the good, old fashioned way and actually_ floo_ down to the ministry and get the papers we need,' he grit out, beating a fist against the keyboard. The computer gave a loud "_ERP_" in warning. 'Shut up, you. Stupid computer.'

'Have you tried just doing a basic search on "unsolved case, Severus Snape"?' asked Snape without looking up from the book he was so intently studying. Ron tossed him a glare, but typed it in the search engine. Immediately he got a hit.

'Just luck,' he grumbled. 'A decent wizard shouldn't be able to understand these things anyway.'

'No,' agreed Hermione, 'excelling at muggle technology often requires a high sense of logic and the patience to take in the information offered. It's not to expect that wizards should be able to do that easily, when even most muggle struggle with it.'

Snape snorted, Ron's look darkened. Harry halfheartedly bumped Ron's shoulder and pointed at the screen. They had to focus. At Hermione's invitation they had flooed to the Weasley's home to continue researching their new mystery. Shame-faced Hermione had showed them her library. To begin with Harry didn't understand her reluctance. She had always been very proud of it, but when Snape had narrowed his eyes, taken down an old book and opened it to reveal the signature of the Half-Blood Prince in it, Harry understood.

'Well, they'd just been auctioned off if I didn't take care of them. At least now we know they went to a good home, right?' said Hermione. She was lovingly caressing an expensive and old looking book, placed like a trophy on a pedestal. It got its own pillow and everything. Snape had crossed his arms and looked at her with murder in his eyes. His authority was still not to be questioned and he was obviously pissed.

'This isn't all of them,' he said. There were hundreds, if not over thousands, of books in the room, yet his certainty brooked no argument.

'No,' admitted Hermione. 'I only managed to steal- err, re-home parts of the collection. Most ended up at Hogwarts,' Snape paled, 'and the illegal ones, well some of them anyway, are retained by the Ministry.'

'You're saying snotty brats and snottier Ministry officials are snooping around in my books?' he roared, cheeks scarlet. 'My notes! My research! My _life_!'

Hermione had stepped behind the pedestal to keep the precious book between herself and Snape's rage. He wouldn't harm his own belongings, she reasoned. 'I did what I could!' she insisted, 'what more could you have wanted?'

There was a long silence. Snape was taking a couple of deep breaths and it looked like he was mentally counting backwards from one hundred. In Latin. 'My Will explicitly stated that I wanted Draco Malfoy to inherit my collection. And seeing as he's not dead, I don't understand why they're in _your_ possession.'

Hermione whispered something, righting the pillow on the pedestal and not meeting his glare.

'_What_?' he ground out.

'The Ministry revoked your rights to have your Will read on the grounds that you're still being accused of being a Death Eater-... even after your death.'

'I see.'

'I'm sorry, I-'

'Don't waste your breath.'

'But I _am _sorry, I did what I could-'

'I said; _forget it_.'

A silent agreement went between them, and the argument ceased. Collecting herself, Hermione was again in control of the situation. They had a lot to do. Now that Snape was there she was certain they'd be able to concoct even more exciting thesis regarding his predicament. 'But,' she said with gritted teeth and head held high, tears in her eyes, 'we must immediately clear Professor Snape's name. That means _now_.' And that was what Ron and Harry was currently trying to do. The Ministry's homepage was completely incomprehensible to anyone mortal. Having previously applied and argued for Snape's innocence more than once, Harry felt his patience grow thin. The man deserved a Merlin, first class, not having his Will revoked.

Hours passed while they were engrossed in each their assignment. Hermione and Snape perhaps a bit more engrossed than Ron and Harry after a while. Swirling around on his chair, Ron threw his head back and let out a long sigh. They weren't really getting anywhere. All they had learned was that the Ministry's homepage was evil reincarnate, designed to bereave innocent people of their souls and sanity.

'Never again,' moaned Ron, massaging his temples. 'I am hungry.'

'Me too,' whispered Harry. He thought it added nicely to the effect of them lying prone on the desk in front of the computer. Turning his head slightly he tried to deduce whether Hermione had noticed their tragic predicament of boredom and starvation, but to no effect. The book had her entire and undivided attention. Snape and her had split up. She sat peering at a slim, black book while Snape seemed to need three other books just to understand the one he was currently perusing. 'Hey,' called Harry. None of them even batted an eyelid. 'Any of you want something to eat?' No response.

'Let's just get something, then,' said Ron. 'If they starve to death I don't think we'll even notice the difference.'

Their supper consisted of grilled cheese sandwiches with lots of cheese and ham and a cold beer. Ron turned on the WWN while they ate so they could listen to the latest Quidditch game. The fun part was to make their own rather loud and rude commentary. Just as they were both agreeing they could play a better game with their arms tied behind their backs and blindfolded, the radio got turned off.

'Come on, we're heading for Hogwarts,' declared Hermione. She had already donned her robes.

'What?' asked Ron and Harry in chorus.

'Professor Snape and I have agreed that we need to further search through his books at Hogwarts,' explained Hermione as patiently as a deadly viper.

'You can't just go to Hogwarts,' said Ron, 'what about Professor McGonagall? She has no clue Snape's still alive. If he suddenly just appears through the floograte she's going to die of cardiac arrest.'

Hermione pursed her lips. 'You make a good point,' she conceded, 'I suppose we should warn her first.'

They got up and fell in behind Hermione as she briskly strode back to the library. Her bushy hair was flowing out behind her and her blue robes snapped around her legs. She was a woman on a mission.

'What does Seve-Snape think about this?' asked Harry, catching Ron's curious glance at his slip on the name.

'I don't know,' admitted Hermione, 'he merely conceded when I suggested it.'

Snape was standing in front of the fireplace, impatiently pawing through a book. He might seem to the entire world as if he could care less, but having had time to study the man for nearly two weeks had taught Harry to see the finer things in his behavioural pattern. Like the way he changed weight from one foot to another, as if he hardly could hold them back from pacing. Or the way he let his hair fall forward, obscuring the worried twitch around his mouth. The most obvious sign of discomfort Snape had was still the tone of his voice. It went from flowing effortlessly to stilted. He would measure every word, probably to discern the amount of damage they could do, before spitting them in your face.

Harry opted not to further antagonize him by asking him directly how he felt about going back to Hogwarts. Hermione grabbed a handful of floopowder and tossed it into the fire. The green flames flared up, thirstily licking the stonework before calming down. Getting down on her knees, she gave Snape a reassuring smile before sticking her head into the flames. They could only catch her side of the conversation.

'Professor McGonagall? ...

Good evening yes-...

Do you have a moment to talk, or are you expecting visitors? ...

You see, we have a rather delicate subject we need to talk to you about...

No that's the problem, I'd rather not talk about it over the floo like this, and we were wondering if you had time to see us properly...

Thank you, yes-...

Well no...

It will be rather a huge shock to you...

I know you probably have seen worse before, but it's still very shocking...

I wouldn't warn you about it if I didn't think there was a need to...

No, sorry Professor McGonagall, of course...

Could you please sit down, at least, before we come through? ...

Thank you. Then we're coming through now.'

She got up and nodded to them. 'I suggest Harry and I go first, you know, just in case, and then Professor Snape and Ron.'

None of the males in the room had any objections and obediently got into line. The fireplace was big enough for two people to fit in at once, and so Harry stepped in together with Hermione. She grabbed a hold around his elbow and clearly called 'Headmistress McGonagall's Office, Hogwarts!' The vertigo began. Even after all these years Harry still didn't care much about floo travelling, but it felt oddly comforting to have Hermione at his side. They stepped through, and landed softly on the bearskin rug in McGonagall's office. The only thing it still had in common with Dumbledore's was the portraits lining the walls. Otherwise everything was different. Everything that twinkled and shimmered had been replaced by sensible things: books, darker drapes, pictures and otherwise nice and homely clutter of someone who had lived to be ninety-one. McGonagall herself had done as Hermione had asked her and sat in a highbacked chair in front of the fireplace. She smiled, warmth shining in her eyes. Around her legs she had tucked a plaid patterned blanket and on the table next to her steamed a nice cup of tea. The cosy scene was abruptly destroyed when the floogrates opened again and Ron and Snape stepped through. McGonagall's face stilled while she stared at Snape. For a long time nothing happened. Eventually she covered her mouth with a shaking hand, her eyes growing larger and larger by the minute. Snape stood silently, pretending the room to be of great interest.

'Severus?' croaked McGonagall finally. 'Severus?'

In a rush she got up from her chair, the blanket discarded on the floor. She walked up to him until there were just a couple of centimetres left between them. Thin, wrinkled hands reached up to carefully touch his face. Snape let it happen without any protests. She caressed his cheeks, poked at his chest, gingerly touched his hair, and pinched his arms. All the while tears were freely streaming down her face.

'It's really you,' she whispered. 'You've come back to us.'


End file.
